


this and other midnight confessions

by ShatterinSeconds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little bit of angst, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Season 5 Spoilers, a little bit of, after postmortem, lance and keith have a late night conversation, set during season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: “I didn’t call you to be teased,” Lance replies.“Ah yes, please enlighten me then as to why you’re calling in the middle of the night when I have a big mission tomorrow and I shouldn’t be indulging you,” Keith smirks, raising a thick eyebrow.(or, a conversation between Lance and Keith set during season 5 about a certain Black Paladin)





	this and other midnight confessions

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sure a lot of these fics are floating around, but have another!
> 
> I wrote this at 1am bc S5 killed me.

 “Your hair’s gotten longer,” Keith says, resting his chin on the back of his hands, casually leaning forward.

The screen is slightly pixelated as Lance props his feet up on the controls, praying he doesn’t hit anything vital. Wherever Keith is, it’s dark, probably cold, and wholly unwelcoming in Lance’s opinion, but he knows that this is his quarters while he’s staying with the Blade. Lance, on the other hand, is illuminated by the crystal above, a soft, baby blue lighting dusting his brown skin and highlighting his cheek bones.

Glaring, Lance cards a hand through his shaggy hair before responding. “Says the person who still has a mullet.”

Somehow in these many months apart--five, six, seven? Is anyone counting? Should they be counting?--Keith has grown older through his eyes that have a harsher, almost more walled, glint to them and his jawline that has sharpened despite always being covered by long, black hair that probably reaches his shoulders though it still curls widely at the ends. His bangs hide his eyes now, and if Lance could reach through the screen, he’d sweep them off his forehead.

Keith smiles--well it’s not exactly a smile but his lips do flicker, somewhat--at this, a retort already on his tongue. “Says the man who’s starting to grow one.”  

They don’t communicate often--and rarely by themselves--but when they do, Lance seems to find himself smiling despite their petty arguments and lame attempts of poking fun at the other. It allows him to breathe in away he can’t now that Lotor is an unfortunate constant… and when he's around Shiro.  

“I didn’t call you to be teased,” Lance replies with a pout.

“Ah yes, please enlighten me then as to why you’re calling in the middle of the night when I have a big mission tomorrow and I shouldn’t be indulging you,” Keith smirks, raising a thick eyebrow. He whispers these words--breath soft but raspy--and Lance vaguely wonders if the Blade has a curfew like the Garrison did.

Suddenly, Lance plants his feet on the ground, coming as close to the screen as he can, eyes set into a deadlocked expression with Keith. His fingers tap on the control panel in a comforting rhythm. “I--it’s about Shiro.”

“Oh?” Keith’s whole body visibly tenses, no longer at ease, and leans closer too--if he was here in person, they’d be inches apart, almost nose to nose. Yet he is still close enough that Lance can pick out the individual violet hues of his irises. But Keith is thousands of lightyears away and that thought cripples Lance for a second. This is not the real Keith, only a bunch of ones and zeros transmitted through subspace. Nothing’s real anymore, it seems. “What about him?” he continues cautiously.

Lance’s mind fails him as he scrambles to form his frantic thoughts into a perfect explanation. “I, uh I don’t know where to start exactly. I guess the best I can do is that he’s not himself.”

Tilting his head in brief confusion, Keith tries to decipher the hidden implications. “Why would y--”

“He’s not listening to us anymore,” Lance quickly interrupts, finding the confidence. “It’s like every decision can only be made by him now with no one else's input. Shiro was never like that before.”

Keith purses his lips. “I’m sure he’s just under a lot of stress….”

“You don’t understand--” _because you’re not here_ , Lance wants to add on but doesn’t “--he _yelled_ at me today. Shiro _never_ yells, at anybody--except for Slav but that’s not the point.”

Shock lingers in Keith’s eyes for a split second. “So you’re saying--”

“That it’s like he’s a completely different person, yes! Ever since he got back from God knows where.” He stops for a second, chest heaving. “I don’t know if I can trust him,” Lance quietly admits, the realization only dawning on him now. He leaves out the part about when they were all on the astral plane and that brief moment of contact with Shiro, unable to make sense of it himself much less willing to try and explain it to someone who wasn’t there.  

A pause lingers in the air, Keith expressionless as always as he searches Lance’s eyes for any more clues. Lance’s fingers subconsciously curl into a fist, the sting of being yelled at never having faded despite the apology that had been given. The drowned out voice of Shiro in the astral plane continues to haunt Lance as he replays the scene over and over again in his mind, hoping to figure out what this ghost had been trying to say.   

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Keith says at last.

“When am I not serious?” Lance quirks his smile at this before it slips back into a frown.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks softly, eyes dipping to the desk and away from Lance’s face.

The answer rings out a second later, the words, a thick blanket, draping over everything on the silent bridge. “I want you to come _home_.”

Keith suddenly lifts his head, a grimace on his face as his brows furrow. “Lance, you know that I can’t; this is important to me. Shiro can still pilot the Black Lion and--”

“You’re not listening,” Lance’s voice rises with the anxiety pooling inside him. His lips curl back into something that could be classified as a snarl--this is not the time for games. “That person is not our Shiro. We need _you_ .” Then, “ _Please_.”  

It’s a desperate cry that causes Keith to visibly wince.

“Lance, I--”

“Please, Keith.”

 _We need you home--I need you home._ Keith’s eyes express something that he can not force himself to say. For a brief moment, a bit of hope sparks inside of Lance, a chance to have someone fully on his side, to have the person he’s missed more than he cares to admit back--Hunk and Pidge are awesome until you get lost in the science and have to sit off near the side, daydreaming of a presence next to you who understands.

That feeling shatters.

A quick, piercing alarm screams through the connection, red lights shadowing Keith’s face in an eerie light. The suddenness of it causes Lance to jump but Keith looks undisturbed, most likely used to the commonality of it by now. He bites his lip, looking over to his dark room that’s now has a blood red tone before turning back to the screen. “Lance, I’ll see you soon; I _promise_. I gotta go.”

The screen fades to black with only Lance’s reflection left to greet him. A frown marrs his features, his eyes caught in a glare, and locks of brown hair curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. Just who has he become? No one back home would recognize him now.

Lance knows though, he knows that those words hold the place of an empty promise. How long will it be until they meet in person again, until Keith returns to being a Paladin?

Five, six, seven more months?

Lance begins to keep count.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos:)


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